


My stomach's tied in knots

by kittenmichael



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, or was it the day before that idk, sad band members, this is inspired by michael's rude comment yesterday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:37:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4014793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenmichael/pseuds/kittenmichael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael says something he shouldn't have said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My stomach's tied in knots

It’s been twenty minutes now, and, quite frankly, Michael is confused. More than that, actually. He’s _offended_. He’s certain he had everyone’s attention when he threw his phone on the coffee table in their hotel room, before storming to the bathroom.

Does he mean nothing to his band anymore? Did they stop caring?

They _know_ how he gets, _know_ how to tell if he’s upset or if he has a sudden case of explosive diarrhoea and that’s why he makes a beeline for the bathroom. Really, he’s showing all the signs.

His hair is lying flat on his forehead, hair gel abandoned in a drawer after he refused to shower after their performance. He hasn’t touched his can of red bull, hasn’t cuddled with a fellow band member, and hasn’t touched the take-out they ordered. 

Now look at him. He’s sitting next to the toilet, head resting against the sink while he tries to blink back his tears. Surely the boys must have checked Twitter or Tumblr by now. He’s certain they read at least one particularly mean tweet or text post, so why has no one bothered to knock on the door yet?

Is Calum playing Fifa without him? Isn’t Ashton wondering why it’s so quiet in the room all of a sudden? And Luke, well. Isn’t he eager to discuss the show with Michael?

Michael’s not sure if he wants to do that today anyway. It’s what caused his sadness in the first place.

It was a slip-up, a comment he _knows_ he shouldn’t have made. But still, is that really enough to be so mean? Half of the fandom was mad at him for saying it, and he wants to take it back. He hates it when the fans are disappointed in him, and the boys know that.

With a sigh, he finally gives up. No one is coming for him.

He throws one last glance in the mirror, giving himself a quick look-over. He’s not sure if he wants to look miserable or if he wants to look like nothing happened. He opts for the first option, because he’s most definitely craving cuddles now. Sitting on the floor has caused his back and his bum to ache, and nothing soothes sore muscles like Ashton’s warm hands.

After sniffling one last time, he unlocks the bathroom door.

Ashton is sitting on the edge of the bed, the duvets wrapped around his shoulders, Calum crouching down in front of it. Michael is about to speak up when _oh_

_Oh._

And just like that he feels like the biggest asshole in the world.

Huddled underneath Ashton’s arm is Luke. He looks right into Michael’s eyes, his icy blue ones filled with tears. There’s a small, apologetic smile on his lips, as he lifts his sweater paw to wipe away the tears that are streaming down his cheeks. He averts his gaze then, nudging his head against Ashton’s shoulder and accepting the comfort the older boy offers.

“Luke?” Michael croaks at last, the silence too heavy for either of them to bear.

Luke doesn’t reply, and Ashton rubs his arm, lifting his gaze to glare at Michael. It’s then that it fully hits Michael, and he’s genuinely worried he might suffer a concussion with the force of it. He sees it in the way Luke is curled up in the large duvets, somehow managing to look tiny and small despite the 6 feet he’s sporting. It’s hidden in the clenched fists, and the lip-biting, and all of a sudden Michael sees all the towels that cover Luke’s naked chest and the hunched shoulders and the salads he used to order.

Luke never actually told them, never talked to them about it. He just ignored it, kept it to himself until it was a thing of the past. But old habits die hard, and Michael’s pretty sure Luke has been insecure about his body since well before high school.

“I’m so sorry.”

It’s not enough, it won’t ever be enough. He’s hurt Luke, his friend, his baby brother, where it hurts most, and the realisation all but forces him down on his knees.

He crouches down in front of Luke, ignoring Calum and Ashton’s careful stares, ready to interfere in case Michael lets any slurs slip again. Michael doesn’t think he can blame them.

“I didn’t mean it, Luke,” he whispers, hand searching for Luke’s. When he entwines their fingers, he notices Luke is trembling. “It was stupid, okay?” His voice is rough, some of the syllables swallowed down with the tears he’s trying so hard to hold back. He guesses Luke has given up on that, because Ashton’s long fingers are now raking through his hair, and his shoulders are shaking.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Michael says. “I was trying to be funny, but I ended up acting like a dick instead.”

He slowly lifts Luke’s hand to his mouth, pressing a sincere kiss to his knuckles. Luke pulls his hand back.

“It’s nothing, guys. I’m just overreacting. It’s stupid, okay?” The other three hold their breath while he talks, afraid to miss any of the words that are tumbling from his lips. His voice cracks after he finishes the first sentence, and Ashton tightens his grip around him, muscles flexing against Luke’s back.

“It’s not stupid,” he says. “We all have our insecurities, and what Michael did was incredibly rude and insensitive. Don’t be ashamed of how you feel, okay? Please don’t ever feel like you need to apologise for crying or for being insecure about something.”

Ashton talks slowly and sternly, comforting Luke without letting the meaning of his words get lost. Michael admires him for that, remembers how many times it has helped him in the past.

“Come on,” Michael says, pushing Ashton’s arm away. The older boy seems hesitant to release Luke from his grip, but once he sees how red Michael’s eyes are, he gives in.

His body curls around Luke’s when he pulls him down next to him, filling every gap and getting rid of every inch that tries to separate them.

“You are my baby, okay?”

Luke snorts, still attempting to wipe away his tears. “I’m, like, at least an inch taller than you.”

“Hush, child, you are my baby.” He wraps his arms around the younger boy’s shivering frame to emphasise his monologue. His fingers slip underneath Luke’s shirt, not without the expected protest though. Luke’s hands try to pry Michael’s away, but Michael is steadfast.

“And that means that I’m not gonna let anyone lay their hands on you, alright? And the first fucker that dares to make a comment about you, will get his dick shoved so far up his asshole it comes back out of his mouth, you understand me?”

Luke giggles at that, the sound muffled by the pillow he’s trying to hide his face in.

“Now that person is me, and I don’t know what to do. If it was physically possible for me to do so, my dick would already be up my ass, but unfortunately biology is not on our side today, so please take my word for it. I am so incredibly sorry, Lukey.”

“You know, I preferred when you called me _loser_.” Michael perks up at that, because he can hear the smile on Luke’s lips, as creepy as it sounds. The sobs have stopped, and although Luke is still sniffling, he seems to have calmed down.

“Oh, Lucas Robert Hemmings,” Michael says after clearing his throat, and Luke groans loudly. “You are the apple of my eye, my baby doll, my bee’s knees, my baby boy, my blossom butt, my bunbuns, my cuddle muffin, my cutie patootie-“

“Enough! Enough!” Luke protests, turning around in Michael’s arms so he can physically restrain him from saying another word by pushing his hand in his face. Michael refrains from licking it. He has already used up his daily meanie-credit.

“Cuddle?” Luke asks, bottom lip jutted out in a pout as he hesitantly pulls his hands back.

It’s nearly impossible to see anything other than sixteen year old Luke, then. With his lame fringe and disgusting fashion taste, giggles uncontainable in Ashton’s presence, and all in all a mix of nervousness and excitement.

And even with Calum and Ashton laying on top of them (“Group hug!”), Michael can tell which hand belongs to Luke. Because even after all those years, Luke still seems hesitant when touching Michael, but his face is nuzzled in his neck.

Michael smiles, even though the take-out, red bull can and hair spray are still abandoned, and none of his band mates have acknowledged his own sadness or his insecurity.

He can’t bring himself to care.

Baby brothers [always](http://cutesymichael.tumblr.com/) come first.

**Author's Note:**

> hurt!michael? 
> 
> bitch you thought
> 
> (also hmu on tumblr: cutesymichael)


End file.
